Taemin sighed as he continued to stare at the stucco ceiling of their apartment. It was a warm-toned white and it looked like lumpy milk. Minho argued it looked more like un-buttered popcorn. Either way, they were stuck with it.

 

It’s been already an hour and Taemin’s already tried to find out all the miscellaneous shapes he can make out within the rough texture. So far he’s found a rabbit with an oversized head, both of Kibum’s fluffy dogs, and clouds. Lots of clouds.

 

Another sigh pushes past his lips, nearly taking the little semblance of motivation Taemin had with it. He feels his whole body go limp, relaxing onto the hard wooden floor. He wants to melt into the floorboards, become nothing but another part of the decor.

 

He could hear their kitchen clock ticking all the way from the living room, and it makes Taemin kick up his legs in annoyance. He’s all alone and he figures it’s okay if he acts a little childish. And so he groans and whines until his legs catches onto the soft, blue-grey rug, tugging it across to where he lay. It wouldn’t have been a problem if the wooden coffee table wasn’t on top of the rug.

 

Taemin winces as he hears the grating sound of wood against wood.

 

He groans as he gets up, dusting his hands off and placing the coffee table back in its place and flattens out the rug. He can still see his laptop sitting on the light gray couch, and he squints at it in mild irritation.

 

He spends a good few moments just staring at his laptop, debating if he should continue writing or just—stop altogether.

 

Lately, all his writing has been , and he can’t muster up the will to continue writing another stanza. It just doesn’t come out right, the idea is a fully coherent thing in Taemin’s mind, but the seconds his fingers touch his keyboard, it becomes gibberish and awkward and just wrong.

 

He does have two months to squeeze out something to give out to Jinki’s older cousin, but even with the breathing room, Taemin can’t even write one line.

 

With another sigh Taemin walks over to their kitchen, taking the watering can out from the cabinets underneath the sink. He then sprinkles a little bit of water to their biggest plant they have in their apartment, it’s a super cute areca palm. Minho likes flowers and those big leafy plants, and Taemin likes succulents. They make it work.

 

He only waters a little though, because he had watered it the day before yesterday already. 

 

Taemin gives the leaves a little pat as he wonders what other chores he could do in order to blow off writing his poem (and the rest of his final projects).

 

Nothing really comes to him, and in all honesty, Taemin doesn’t really want to do anything. He feels whiny and a bit spoiled and irritated with himself, and so resolutely he jumps over the living room couch, grabs his phone and rolls off until he’s splayed out on the floor once more. 

 

This time his head is cradled by the soft rug, and even though it tickles his neck, it almost feels like a pillow.

 

From the angle in which he’s lying, he can feel the warmth of the sun seep in through the large living room windows. Even though winter is in full bloom, Taemin can still feel the prickle of heat wherever the fading sun paints his skin gold.

 

And he’s back at staring up at the ceiling, eyes wandering, mind buzzing.

 

 

Okay it’s not really about the poem. 

 

Well, it started before the poem, Taemin just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

 

 

“Is this what we’re doing now?” Minho asks when he comes in through their front door, loud as always as he takes off his shoes and slightly bumps into their walls. Their apartment was pretty small, it was almost impossible to take off your shoes without knocking something down.

 

“Yes, this is exactly what we’re doing now,” Taemin replies from the floor, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

 

“Still with that poem?” Minho asks as he takes off his burgundy coat and drapes it across their couch.

 

“Yeah. It’s literally been killing me,” Taemin responds with a sigh. Yawning a bit as Minho lays down next to him, snatching some chocolates off their coffee table before placing a single chocolate kiss on his cheek.

 

“What time did you fall asleep yesterday?” Minho asks before ripping open a bag of mini m&m’s.

 

“I don’t think I did,” Taemin says truthfully as he placed the wrapper of the kiss on Minho’s stomach, smiling slightly when Minho flicks it off in small annoyance. 

 

“Tae…” Minho says in that extremely specific—you’re doing something that I disapprove of but I can’t really scold you—voice. 

 

Taemin rolls his eyes as he sits up, leaning back on his elbows and letting out a sigh that seemed to drain out his life source.

 

“Dude, I need to get this done. Like I haven’t even started the rough draft yet, but nothing seems right and I just, don’t even know what’s happening to me,” Taemin says softly, the edges of his sentences filled with soft doubt. He closes his eyes before continuing “This was never an issue for me before. But everything just seems. Just wrong it’s all wrong.”

 

He wants to cry out of frustration right there. He knows it’s pathetic but , he feels so inadequate at the only thing he was supposed to be good at. Taemin fears mediocrity, it’s been a thing ever since he was young. Taemin knows it’s silly to doubt his talent that he’s been crafting for years now, but he’s horribly uncertain about the future. He doesn’t know if he can constantly produce quality works, or if his works are even worth publishing. He feels so scattered brained and just so—uncertain. The type of uncertainty that creates a knot in your chest, the type of uncertainty that makes it hard to breathe.

 

Minho doesn’t say anything, he just shifts closer and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Minho’s always been great at comforting, not because he has amazing advice but there’s something about the way Minho listens that soothes Taemin’s worries. Minho doesn’t try to say that everything will be alright, nor does he urge Taemin to do anything, he just sits and waits. And that’s always been a huge comfort for Taemin. 

 

Some of the times he’s felt the closest to Minho was when he and Minho just sit around together. Sometimes they listen to a random playlist Minho has on him, sometimes they don’t. But Minho’s there, and they wait until the waves of doubt and fear roll away, they wait until Taemin feels human again. And for that Taemin could not be more grateful.

 

Taemin feels Minho’s hold tighten just the slightest bit, and it’s enough for Taemin to crack. He leans on Minho until his forehead hits the junction of Minho’s neck. And as genuinely ridiculous as it sounds, Taemin lets out a small sniffle. He doesn’t cry, but his eyes do get a little glassy. 

 

“God, I’m really sorry I know I’m being so irrational,” Taemin says then, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. “I just haven’t slept in like nine days so I’m just so emotionally charged but like—”

 

“Tae, it’s okay,” Minho says then, soothing and soft. The words are reassuring, simple but they convey a type of solidarity Taemin needs to hear. He starts running his hands through Taemin’s hair and Taemin all but nearly melts.

 

A few minutes pass by like that, with the setting sun from outside enveloping them both whole. Minho alternates between patting Taemin’s head, rubbing his back gently, and eating the few bits of candy left. And time remains still, until Taemin sighs against Minho’s shoulder. He can feel exhaustion permeate through his bones, it’s strength enough to send Taemin’s eyes fluttering shut.

 

“I think I’m gonna take a nap or something,” Taemin says, on the brink of falling asleep. He could fall asleep on Minho’s shoulder at this point, but he knows he should probably get in a few hours of actual rest.

 

“Yeah, I think you should,” Minho says after a while, letting go of Taemin and standing up first, giving his arms a bit of a stretch before leaning down and offering Taemin his hand.

 

Taemin blinks his eyes sluggishly before they rest on Minho’s outstretched hand. He notices how tired Minho’s eyes are, how the corners of his smile speak volumes of tiredness. Taemin can’t help but to feel slightly guilty, he knows Minho’s working really hard for his last music project of the semester. In all honesty, Taemin should be the one taking care of Minho, not the other way around. But Taemin knows Minho, knows that Minho hates it when others try caring for him. And it’s sad because sometimes Taemin just wants to give back all the support Minho’s giving him throughout the years.

 

“Sorry for being so melodramatic,” Taemin says as he takes Minho’s hand in a firm clasp. 

 

It’s only when Taemin’s back on his feet that he realizes how dark the apartment is. Minho must’ve only a few lights when he came back.

 

The sun had nearly disappeared behind the city buildings, the sky was no longer set aflame. The world is filled with swirls of purple with dark blue at on its edges, chasing away the pink dipped clouds. It casts a blue tone throughout their living room, moonlight taking the place of sunlight. It disorients Taemin a bit, to have such a loose grip on time.

 

But then Minho smiles back, easily—naturally—like all things earthy and warm, like sunshine. “It’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”

 

 

—

 

 

The next day wasn’t much an improvement on the extremely hard task of Getting Done. Aside from the poem, Taemin also had to write a ten-minute play for his creative writing class, and also write up a mock novella with a minimum of 10,000 words for his publishing class.

 

And he didn’t even start anything.

 

Taemin was always an ‘all or nothing’ type of person. So currently, he was bored in their apartment, splayed out on the couch, his left arm dangling—nearly touching the carpet on the floor, the really soft one that was absolutely perfect for laying on and staring off into space.

 

The carpet was actually pretty great, they had bought it at a goodwill, dry cleaned and it was as good as new. Because ultimately, they’re both broke and have the same yearning to live in the city they’ve grown to love, in the city that took them in when they uprooted their pasts. The city that took in the little saplings, sheltered them not with actual beams and bricks but with its ambiance, with its twinkling lights, its promises of better years to come. 

 

And so they feel safer here, feel like they have more room to breathe, more room to be themselves.

 

Or at least that’s what Taemin thought, and he was sure Minho felt the same way. He hasn’t been friends with the guy for most of his life to not be able to read his mind at this point.

 

And at first for their university years, if Taemin recalled correctly, it all had been almost a dream come true. Sure they were blasting all their money with loans to pay for their tuition and board, but they were happy, and paying them off seemed so far away.

 

Being in his last years of uni, Taemin’s had to face many aspects of not only himself but of the actual reality in which they’re living in. And that was scary. 

 

It was scary not knowing what to do, what’s going to happen, where to go from here. Yes, the world has infinite possibilities but infinity can be overwhelming, infinity can be too much.

 

With a sigh Taemin rolled over on their maroon couch, blindly reaching for his phone that was placed on the armrest. He squinted a bit at the bright light of it before texting Minho to bring home some takeout. He stared at the little blinking text bubble, waiting for Minho to text back that yes, he was getting him a milkshake along with an extra large fries. 

 

His phone buzzed a few moments later, and Taemin rested his phone on his stomach contentedly. Minho was a solid guy, a total softie for his friends yeah but, dependable. Taemin rubbed his eyelids as he yawned, stretching slightly before looking for patterns and constellations on the ceiling, letting the not so silent silence of the apartment fill the entire room. He let himself relax onto their couch, let himself melt into the cushions.

 

He could hear the chatter of the world outside him, dulled through sunny walls. In all honesty, the muffled sounds served as an omnipresent comfort. It made him feel like a part of a greater whole in a way. It made Taemin think about all the people driving to downtown, people commuting by bus, people getting off the subway. He couldn’t stop thinking about how all of these people, faces Taemin couldn’t even distinguish even if he tried, lived completely complex lives of their own. Their own struggles, their own strengths. 

 

And Taemin didn’t even know their names. 

 

And what threw him more into a loop, was the fact that for them, Taemin was just another background character. Someone nameless, a blurred, faint humanlike thing. Undistinguishable except for the times he decides to dye his hair platinum, usually having a lanky kid following him around.

 

“Ugh,” Taemin says out loud as he turns on the couch again, his swirling daydreams disappearing as he blinks at their potted areca palm.

 

Essay. Projects. Getting done. , he was so distracted lately he can’t even hold onto one train of thought.

 

Taemin debated on whether or not to get up out of the apartment, to see if that would clear his mind a bit. But of course, Minho bursts through the front door, keys jangling, takeout bags hanging from his arms.

 

“I’m home!” Minho exclaims. He always does that, always chirps something even though it was obvious he was back, it was pretty endearing, and Taemin liked the routine of it. Even when he was feeling disoriented and a bit lost, Minho somehow found ways to anchor him back. He hoped Minho knew how much he appreciated that.

 

“I got your thing, they didn’t have m&ms at the one by work so I went to the one down fourth street,” Minho says as he gives Taemin his m&m milkshake. “It has like, way less people. If it weren’t so out of the way to get there, I literally would only go there.”

 

Taemin smiles as Minho recounts what happened, he sits upright and doesn’t even flinch when Minho sits flush against him, kicking off his black adidas shoes and putting his feet on the coffee table, the bag of greasy fast food balanced on their thighs.

 

“Thanks for going the extra mile,” Taemin says then, half-jokingly, as he sifts through the dull brown bag for extra fries at the bottom.

 

“Yeah I know, I’m seriously an angel,” Minho replies, teasingly with a bright smile. “So what’s up, you were gonna do something?”

 

“Not sure. Wanted to see if walking around cleared my mind or some .” Taemin replies easily as he dipped his fries in Minho’s little puddle of ketchup in the corner of his chicken nugget container.

 

“Ugh same, I gotta finish up producing the last bits of this song for my final and it’s been killing me like it sounds so? Disjointed. I need to escape somewhere to finish it.” Minho says back as he some bbq sauce off his thumb.

 

Taemin nods at that, keeping quiet when Minho falls silent. The air between them is filled with understanding, they both had lots of projects to finish in the next few weeks, and it was pretty rough on both of them. They kept each other sane by bringing home food and playing video games when they needed to hella chill. 

 

Sometimes all they had to do was sit on the same couch and breathe for a little moment. And that’s what Taemin does, he lays his head on Minho’s shoulder, relaxing a bit now once he’s with someone. 

 

Taemin’s eyes drift to their window to see the lovely lights of downtown, it gives him the slight feeling that everything’s going to be okay. He sees Minho look down at him through the reflection of the window, he looks worried as ever as he pats Taemin’s head. 

 

And Taemin’s filled with the feeling that everything can go to but Minho will always have his back.

 

“Thanks for being my friend,” Taemin says seriously, cutting the silence, shifting a bit to steal Minho’s last fry while he’s at it. “Like seriously, you’re super nice and supportive and like. I’m glad I have you in my life man, would probably spend all my money on ridiculous without you.”

 

Minho laughs at that, shoving Taemin’s side playfully when Taemin starts laughing too.

 

“And you always bring me food so like—I’m set for life, don’t die,” Taemin says, trying to finish lightheartedly, smiling when Minho rolls his eyes. 

 

“Your romantic proclamation of love is so weak,” Minho jokes, and for a moment Taemin hesitates, pulling off a casual noncommittal hum.

 

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Taemin dismisses. “Anyway, when are you going to show me this song, I’ve been dying to hear more of your stuff.”

 

Minho shrugs at that, getting up from their couch to throw away the empty containers of food. “It’s still really rough, but I’ll show you the part I’m working on later, ‘kay?”

 

Taemin nods even though Minho’s already walked away.

 

He stays on the couch for a few moments before deciding actually get up and try to study for his art history final, groaning and sighing the whole way to his work desk.

 

 

—

 

 

“Okay but like, write. Just write. Hell, write about how you can’t write,” Jonghyun says as he gently sips on his coffee, rolling his eyes as Taemin lets out a loud groan.

 

“You did not just do that to me. I trusted you for good advice and you, just—you seriously—said write about how I can’t write. Jonghyun, I love you but I don’t think I can forgive you for this.” Taemin says then, taking a bite of his buttered croissant before leaning his head against the restaurant window, finding it to be unusually cold.

 

Jonghyun sighs in return, an amused smile played on his lips as he lightly shook his head at Taemin’s despair. Taemin knew he was being difficult and whiny, but being with Jonghyun made him feel extra bratty. Maybe because Jonghyun always lets him get away with it, ever since they were kids. 

 

They were neighbors actually, Jonghyun being just a few years older then Taemin. Now Jonghyun’s out of college and he has a sweet job working his own radio show and composing really rad in his spare time. Taemin’s really jealous of how everything worked out for Jjong, he worries if he’s gonna be able to pull it off too.

 

“Tae, I know you’re really frustrated right now, but I can’t just tell you what to write,” Jonghyun reminds him, taking one last sip of his coffee before scanning the small cafe for a trashcan.

 

“I know. I wasn’t expecting you to. I just need like. Inspiration? Or some ? Like, you would you know right? You write all the time, songs yeah but it’s like the same thing,” Taemin says then, dragging out his words at the end lazily, annoyedly. He’s whining outright now, and he’s aware of it.

 

Jonghyun tries not to laugh at the forlorn look Taemin has in his face.

 

“I saw that smile Kim Jonghyun! Don’t laugh at my misery,” Taemin says, laying his head on his arms, giving Jonghyun a strong dose of puppy eyes.

 

“God Tae, sorry man I don’t know what to tell you. Sometimes the inspiration is there sometimes it isn’t.” Jonghyun says, running a hand through his brown hair, sighing as it fell back in front of his eyes. “Sometimes you just need to finish, you know?”

 

Taemin lets out a snort and Jonghyun flicks his forehead.

 

“Dude seriously, just finish things. Like listen, you’re so hung up on the process, that in searching for perfection, everything will seem like to you. Sometimes you need to make bad things to make better things,” Jonghyun says, giving Taemin’s head a soft pat before standing up.

 

“I don’t want to make bad things. I want to make good things,” Taemin says, pointedly and bratty and all things annoying. He makes a mental note to make it up to Jonghyun later somehow.

 

Jonghyun shakes his head once more as Taemin gets up, he wraps an arm around Taemin shoulders, bumping hips with Taemin to keep the mood light. “It’s okay not to be perfect Tae, give yourself the chance to mess up. Make some bad . It’ll do you good.”

 

A sharp breeze passes them as they step out of the cafe, it’s not bitter so much as it’s jarring. Something Taemin wasn’t expecting. But he guesses he’ll roll with it. Roll with what Jonghyun told him. Even though it kinda makes him wanna laugh a bit. Jonghyun’s voice changes a bit whenever he’s giving advice, slips into the one he uses on his radio show. If Jonghyun didn’t actually dish out good advice, Taemin would’ve totally bugged him to death about it.

 

“You want me to drive you home? I still got an hour or so before I have to pick up Jinki,” Jonghyun offers sincerely, giving Taemin’s shoulder a light squeeze.

 

“Nah, nah. I’m just gonna hang around, look at the streets, see if something strikes me or whatever,” Taemin says nonchalantly, and it’s convincing enough to get Jonghyun to leave him with a soft smile. 

 

And so Taemin’s left on a bench, watching Jjong’s back grow fainter and fainter in the distance, and he feels a heavy weight push on his shoulders, until he’s slumping on the bench, the metal bar digging into his hip.

 

He feels his phone vibrate and he can’t help but smile at Minho’s text. Minho’s out with Kibum and knowing Kibum, they’re eating at that cute little french restaurant near Kibum’s workplace. It was sweet of him to ask if Taemin wanted him to pick up some macaroons.

 

Taemin nearly groans when his smile widens. Pressing his hands to his cheeks and rubbing them until his grin dies down. Taemin’s been all kinds of sappy and gross whenever Minho literally breathes near him, and it’s getting exhausting.

 

With another sigh Taemin sinks lower on the bench. He’s been all out of whack, especially with everything that’s going on right now. Taemin knows he’s being really difficult lately and just really pretentious and -like. Taemin’s acutely aware of this, and he kinda doesn’t know how to stop. He’s just so hung up on finishing all the work for his classes, and that damn poem that has to be like, more than ten stanzas with a prompt so vague he can’t even begin to decipher it.

 

But he supposed that the problem isn’t the amount of work or just, environment issues or whatever. Jonghyun was right when he said that everything he writes feels like complete to him, and he wonders if he should just plow through with half made ramblings and deal with the mess later. Or to just, not even start.

 

It’s a mess. Add in the Minho thing and it’s like a Gigantic Mess.

 

With that in mind, Taemin watches the streets in front of him, searching for some form of an answer. That maybe the right path to take is hidden somewhere between the city streets, and Taemin just has to look hard enough to find it.

 

Even though the air is a little colder this year than it normally is during the winter, people are still walking out and about in the city are just as busy as always. Taemin follows the steady stream of people and chatter, before turning his attention to the tall tree behind the cafe Jjong and him just visited.

 

It still held onto its leaves, even with winter painting its bark a dark blue color. It was something strong and stagnant in the middle of an endlessly flowing river. It makes Taemin feel the slightest bit jealous.

 

With yet another deflating sigh, Taemin pushes himself up off the rusting bench, scuffing his shoes a bit on the sidewalk as the weight of Jonghyun’s words made themselves known. He rolled his shoulders as his heart started to feel lighter, he supposes that the only other thing left for him to do was to push on forward. 

 

And on that note he started walking home, mixing himself with the mass of people running up and down the sidewalks.

 

 

—

 

 

“It’s really, really rough. And like not even ready to turn in yet. But you asked and I’m such a pushover for you it’s almost sad,” Minho says as he settles into the couch, opening his laptop and opening up his sound program.

 

Taemin can’t help his smile as he looks over Minho’s shoulder. Minho’s music is one his absolute favorite things to hear, and even though Minho can be incredibly self-deprecating, he can tell that Minho’s proud of this one, and Taemin can’t even imagine how great it’ll be.

 

“Alright so for the first project, the song has to be at least four minutes and thirty seconds long, and it can have an intro or an outro. So like I have an intro because there’s literally no way I can hit the time minimum without it.” Minho explains, messing with stuff on his computer that makes no sense to Taemin.

 

“I’m still kinda sad I didn’t even hear the rough cut,” Taemin complains, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Minho.

 

“That’s because you were supposed to be busy doing your projects, and I still don’t forgive you for not helping me out with the vocals, I really wanted three different voices,” Minho says back, his eyes twinkling in the way they do whenever he’s teasing someone.

 

“Yeah yeah, just play it.” Taemin urged, picking up the tossed blanket on their couch and wrapping it around his shoulders.

 

There was a moment where Minho hesitated to press play, taking a shallow breath before hitting the space bar on his laptop. 

 

Taemin could immediately see why Minho was so happy with the result, the song was beautiful. It started out soft and ethereal, with Kibum’s voice gently filling up the entire apartment. His voice was perfect for this part, it was unique and held a tone of not just sensuality but also a fullness, a gentleness. At about forty seconds in, the twinkling yet simple notes pulled back, letting Jinki switch in for the vocals. There was a millisecond where the music was held back and only Jinki’s vocals were left, and when the hook came back, it was breathtaking.

 

Taemin couldn’t hold back a proud smile. The song had completely changed, no longer soft and delicate it was strong and potent. The production was so well that even with a bunch of complex layering the song managed to not sound crushed.

 

Taemin could even hear Minho’s own vocals harmonizing with Jinki’s, and Kibum’s voice being brought back for a few select verses. It was amazing, it was stunning, Taemin had never felt more pride for Minho before.

 

“Dude, holy , holy . I don’t even have words,” Taemin said once the song was over, looking at Minho with eyes filled with wonder. “How did you even do that?”

 

Minho shrugged and smiled widely, his cute teeth in full view.

 

“Yeah, I’m really happy with the results,” Minho says bashfully, the tips of his cheeks changing into a soft rose tint.

 

Taemin smiles at him before leaning over to give him a loose hug, clapping his back. “I’m so proud of you man, I know you’ve been working so hard on this.”

 

Minho sighs happily then, his grin as wide as it can be, as if he swallowed the sun whole and he couldn’t help but radiate kindness.

 

“Thanks, I just got like. One more project to finish up and I’m good to go for this semester,” Minho responds tiredly.

 

Taemin can see where Minho’s lost sleep on this, where Minho worked so relentlessly for this. He can see the droopiness in his crinkling eyes, could see all the nights Minho stayed in their living room and in the studio just working and working; making sure the production didn’t sound crushed, or that the voices weren’t drowned out by the music. It was a drowsy contentment. A proud tiredness.

 

God Taemin really wanted to kiss him. 

 

Aside from the fact that Minho looked beautiful with the blue-glow of his computer screen, aside from the fact that his sleepy smile is so genuine and raw, Taemin just couldn’t even begin to express how grateful he was towards Minho. He knows he’s said it out loud before and , but Minho is always just there for Taemin, even when he’s going through his own issues, he’s always supportive and attentive and god Taemin just wants to give Minho the whole world. He’s worked so hard to overcome so many things, and Taemin knows that a simple kiss won’t really express all the things he wants, but goodness Minho’s so close and just—warm—that Taemin feels almost helpless. 

 

Instead, Taemin pats Minho’s arm, before telling him, “Relax today, okay? I’m serious you’re not working on anything today. I’m gonna make popcorn and we’re just gonna watch a bunch of movies.”

 

Minho chuckles at that, shaking his head before shutting his laptop. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be working on your own stuff?” Minho asks then, as he gets up to grab a couple of blankets from his room because he knows how much Taemin loves wrapping himself into a little cocoon whenever they watch anything together.

 

“Yes, I should be,” Taemin says loudly as he shuts their microwave, pressing two minutes and thirty seconds on the timer.

 

Minho smiles at Taemin’s bluntness as he walks back into their living room, setting down the heap of blankets on the couch before turning on the television. 

 

“But it’s fine, I actually finished a few things,” Taemin says as he jumps over the back of the couch, knocking over a few pillows. “And we both deserve a break. I mean, you more than me obviously, but whateves.”

 

Again Minho smiled, leaning his head back to rest on the back of the couch. He cold feel Taemin draping a few blankets on them, and then a bit more shuffling as the popcorn bowl was seated safely between them.

 

“Okay so, we got chungking express, or the grand budapest hotel,” Taemin says, holding up two distinct dvd covers, one being grandiose and refined, the other one being a straight throwback to the 90s—down to the distinct graphic style—slightly nostalgic.

 

Minho thinks for a moment, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth before gesturing to the grand budapest hotel dvd. He wanted a laugh, and that movie was one of his all time favorites.

 

Taemin gets up, trying not to trip over their rug and shuffles over to their tv, placing the dvd in with a small ‘clang’. He huffs a little as he drags himself back to their couch, he’s comfy and kinda sleepy and doesn’t feel like getting up at all anymore.

 

He shifts a bit closer to Minho, a lot closer than he should be but he doesn’t care. They’ve always been close, and Minho loves to cuddle and . Taemin feels like he has years of justification behind him, he tries not to think about the excuses he’ll have to give if Minho finds it weird to have Taemin literally draped all over him.

 

But it’s fine, Minho doesn’t mind, especially when he’s extremely touchy with all his friends, Taemin being no exception.

 

And so the rest of the evening passes like this, both of them huddled together in a separate little world, laughing a bit every once in a while at the screen. They are both content, not even caring when the sky lightens a bit. 

 

Everything is okay in this small moment, and they hold on to it, a reminder for whenever time is too little, when everything is too much.

 

 

—

 

 

Taemin managed to haul major , he managed to finish two essays and an online final in the last few hours of the due dates. But it was fine, he got most of everything done, calculated his final scores already, he would be passing all of his classes, with the creative writing one pending due to the fact that his professor never answers emails, and being that it’s the last class to end this semester.

 

He sent in all his work anyway, crossing his fingers and hoping for the best.

 

He’s even made a little headway on the poem. Just writing about writing and whatnot. he’s not satisfied with it but it’s not that bad, besides Taemin knows he’ll have to edit the out of it anyway.

 

“Dude, you don’t have to worry about school until next semester, which is your last semester ever. So. A celebration is in complete order,” Jonghyun says as he pats Taemin’s head, taking Taemin out of his reverie.

 

“Jjong, I’m just so tired I need to sleep for like, nine days,” Taemin responds, rolling over on Jonghyun’s couch. He’s currently bundled up in the blanket Jonghyun throws over his couch, a pillow secured to his chest. Jjong’s apartment is always cold because he loves wearing hoodies, and Taemin always freezes to death whenever he waltzes inside.

 

“Taem, seriously c’mon. Lets call up Bum and Jinki and just—I don't even know—get drinks or food or whatever,” Jonghyun says, taking out his phone and mindlessly sending out a few texts.

 

Taemin thinks for a moment, twirling the ends of Jonghyun’s blanket with his fingers. Although Jonghyun’s apartment happens to be a freezer, it’s comfy. It’s painted in grays and cold icy blues with black furniture. It’s familiar, and Taemin really doesn’t feel like doing anything at all today.

 

“We should go to this tea place in the art district. Minho’s been talking about wanting to check it out,” Taemin says, suppressing a yawn and rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. “After he finishes his last final though, for like a proper celebration. His classes end a week after mine.”

 

Jonghyun smiles lightly at that, getting up from the adjacent couch and stretching, smiling even wider when Taemin starts to glare at him.

 

“What? I just think it’s cute. How you’re always like. Thinking about Minho. It is cute, don’t deny it,” Jonghyun says, wagging his finger at Taemin like a teasing parent.

 

“I don’t always think about him. And I know what you’re gonna say, and I’m not going to put a friendship of years on the line just because I like him,” Taemin says, the words feeling scripted as they leave his lips. He did not just quote one of the most cliche sayings ever. Gross.

 

“Dude, you don’t just like him. You love him, you have loved him, honestly why you guys aren’t together yet still baffles me.” Jonghyun says softly, not in the pressing and frustrated way Kibum mentions it, but in a more dreamlike tone, in a more bewildered way. “Like being real here for a moment, you need to come to terms with things. You need to confront things. That’s what was keeping you from doing your projects right?”

 

Taemin sits up at that, scratching his head a bit before readying an actual argument “The two things are different though, don’t—”

 

“When you came to terms that you were afraid to write, you got over that writers block,” Jonghyun says matter of fact-ly, dj voice in full bloom. Taemin doesn’t respond.

 

“Taem, seriously just, confront this, trust me you’ll be better off. Even if he doesn’t love you back,” Jonghyun says finally, checking his watch and clicking his tongue when he sees how late it is.

 

“And how do you know so much about this huh?” Taemin says tiredly, his words aren’t biting but rather tired, resigned. He’s still tired from the nap he took earlier, still sleepy. 

 

“Trust me on this one,” Jonghyun says, holding out a hand to Taemin to help him get up from the couch.

 

“You’re such a parent, seriously,” Taemin mumbles as he’s steadied on his feet. 

 

And Jonghyun smiles proudly at that, swiping his car keys from the coffee table. He dangles them in front of Taemin’s face, causing Taemin to smile back.

 

“I’m treating you out to a celebratory dinner with Jinki, and I’ll drive you home later, alright?” Jonghyun says, knowing that Minho’s too busy trying to finish up the last bits of his projects to hang out.

 

It’s things like this that make Taemin miss the years when he was fresh into college and Jjong was an upperclassman. They could hang out a lot frequently, like almost always at least three times a week. It was nice, they didn’t have to work as hard back then, they were still kids. Well, Taemin’s still a kid, and Jonghyun too. But Jonghyun’s been through things Taemin still hasn’t even experienced, and he kinda misses the times where he didn’t have to worry about the next months after graduation, how to pay off the debt, how to find a job, actually paying for their apartment with money earned rather than money borrowed.

 

It was scary but Jonghyun helps, seeing Jonghyun happy and living comfortably while working with art gives Taemin the bits of motivation he needs.

 

He jokes around whenever he says Jjong is like a parent, but honestly in many ways he’s been there as not just a friend but like a brotherly figure (more so when they were kids and the seemed bigger). 

 

“Well? Let’s go.” Jonghyun urges. Taemin nods, throwing an arm over Jonghyun’s shoulders as they walk out of the apartment. 

 

 

— 

 

 

When Taemin comes home after his morning class with Kibum, he’s more than a little shocked to see Minho sprawled out on their living room floor. He’s wrapped up in a soft pink blanket and he had scrunched up the rug a bit so it acts like a makeshift pillow. There’s soft music playing from Minho’s phone somewhere, it’s a bit sad, a bit too gentle, a bit too fragile. Minho barely acknowledges Taemin, only giving him a small hum when Taemin kicks him lightly with his heel, his eyes are trained on the ceiling above.

 

And Taemin does what any best friend would do. He grabs left over candy from the cupboard and lays right down next to Minho.

 

He hands out a snickers bar to Minho, who wordlessly takes it with a sigh. Taemin busies himself with a twix bar, looking up at the ceiling too. He silently promises himself and Minho to stop buying so much candy, maybe he’ll grab one of those kale chips or something, digesting this much really can’t be healthy.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Taemin asks, he’s never been good at comforting, but he tries.

 

“Not much to talk about,” Minho answers softly. “I’m not doing so well on my last project is all. Like. I did really good on the one I showed you, but for some reason, I can’t get through this one. Not to mention that like, I need to finish it and it’s due tomorrow.” 

 

Taemin stays quiet for a moment, eyes running up and down the stucco ceiling until all the little constellations became a blur and it just looked like a mess. A big lumpy mess. 

 

He still doesn’t say anything when Minho’s song switches into another, equally as calming and soft. He lets the twinkling beats whirl around the room, letting it fill the empty spaces between them. 

 

Instead of speaking Taemin reaches over, blindingly searching for Minho’s hand, giving it a small squeeze.

 

“We’re gonna be okay,” Taemin says then, holding onto Minho just a little bit more tighter. 

 

Minho nods at that, takes a deep breath before keeping it hostage in his lungs, holding it and holding it before letting it go gently, letting his whole body deflate with it.

 

“We should stop using candy as an emotional crutch right?” Taemin says later, after finishing their stash of chocolate, his stomach hurting a little bit, his hand warm and still laced in Minho’s.

 

Minho gives out an amused scoff, nodding as his eyes close. And as much as Taemin wants to let Minho nap for a bit more, he knows Minho really needs to finish his project, so he nudges Minho a bit. Minho grumbles a bit in response, rubbing at his eyes and before getting up.

 

“You think you’ll finish on time?” Taemin asks tentatively as he gathers up all the discarded wrappers that littered the floor.

 

“Finish? yeah. Being satisfied with the finished product…nah. Probably not,” Minho says with a small sigh, bending down to help Taemin with the wrappers.

 

And Taemin’s heart clenches a bit at the familiar statement. It’s rather ironic, how Taemin knows exactly how Minho’s feeling, knows the exact type of helplessness.

 

“Min, you’ve worked so hard on this, there’s no way it’ll sound bad,” Taemin says then, walking over to their kitchen and throwing away the wrappers before washing his hands in the kitchen sink.

 

“It’s not that it sounds bad, I’ve just. I’ve made better things, and I know I have it in me, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Minho says as he makes his way behind Taemin, hugging Taemin loosely just as Taemin turns off the water.

 

Taemin stays still as Minho lays his chin on Taemin’s shoulder, he lets Minho hold him, because he knows how much comfort Minho gains from physical affection. All the while Taemin wants nothing more than to turn around, smooth Minho’s hair out of his eyes and ask why the hell are we not dating, jesus whenever you do this it feels like maybe you like—

 

Taemin shakes off his thoughts with the stern understanding that Minho honestly just needs to re-focus for a bit and work on what he needs to. He’s seen Minho’s progress the last few weeks, and he knows Minho’s project should’ve been finished a long time ago, he knows Minho’s just stopping himself because of his own judgments over his work.

 

With that in mind he slowly shakes Minho off him, he turns around grabs Minho by the shoulders before saying, “Dude, seriously, I know you can finish and I know it’ll be fine. Believe in your own abilities okay?”

 

And Minho smiles at that, softly and unsurely. But he nods nonetheless, giving Taemin a meaningful look before retreating into his room.

 

Taemin knows Minho will stay up all night trying to tweak his final project until he either becomes fully satisfied with the finished product, or gives up completely. Drumming his fingers alongside the kitchen counter Taemin debates whether or not to go out real quick to buy Minho some coffee from the little cafe they have just around the corner.

 

He knows it’ll boost up Minho’s morale just a bit, and besides Minho has already done so much for him, it would only be fit to return the favor.

 

 

—

 

 

Taemin’s lounging on their couch, texting Kibum about going out later or something. Today has been a particularly nice day, it’s warm enough to step outside without dying, and the sky is so vast and brilliantly blue that Taemin can’t help but yearn to spend a bit of his day admiring it. The winter semester is basically over, and all that’s left is the spring one and then graduation. Whoa.

 

Taemin’s about to text Kibum a time for their outing when Minho bursts through their front door. 

 

He’s starry-eyed with his long hair messily shoved underneath a beanie, and a smile so wide it almost splits his entire face. 

 

He nearly crashes into the couch, jumping on top of Taemin and laughing so unrestrainedly that it makes Taemin laugh out of just how smiley and happy Minho seems to be.

 

“I’m done, I’m done, I’m done,” Minho says giggling, hugging Taemin tight.

 

Taemin smiles wider at that, sitting upright and hugging Minho back. He could feel Minho’s upbeat energy fill up their quaint apartment, that type of upbeat energy that comes after the end of an era, the end of hard work and strict deadlines. They still had a semester to go, but they could allow themselves this, soft laughter and a bit of down time before they had to get their asses back into gear.

 

And it was almost surreal, Minho was so lively and jubilant that Taemin couldn’t help but lean over a bit and peck Minho’s forehead.

 

It was a bit awkward because Taemin hesitated at the last second, and Minho’s head tilted upwards and Taemin ended up kissing the part right in between Minho’s eyebrows.

 

There were a few moments of complete stillness, where Minho’s eyes bore right at Taemin’s, wide and in shock. Taemin could feel his face heating up, and he knew he went too far. Sure they’ve kissed each other’s foreheads before, or their cheeks, but those times had been either when they were younger or reserved for very rare occasions. It wasn’t something as casual, as it were with Jonghyun or Kibum. Whenever it involved Minho, things got a bit more complicated.

 

But then Minho chuckled, getting up off Taemin to sit upright on the couch. He pulled off his beanie and ruffled his hair, all the while Taemin stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. Minho didn’t seem upset or awkward, he seemed shy and almost coy. 

 

“Am I reading too much into this?” Minho asks then, looking up at Taemin cautiously.

 

“Don’t know. Do you want to?” Taemin responds back, his body relaxing when Minho tries to smother an even bigger smile. Minho always had a problem with smiling too much, smiling at everything, it was super endearing.

 

“No,” Minho says, and they’re being a bit too stiff, a bit too ridiculous and Taemin almost sighs because he’s always expected this to be easier. This wasn’t supposed to be awkward, not when he’s known Minho for so long, not when there’s nothing to be ashamed of. 

 

“Okay then you’re not,” Taemin replies, opening his arms up at looking at Minho expectantly.

 

And Minho chuckles at that, leaning over to hug Taemin back. They don’t talk much after that, they just feel each other’s warmth alongside relief that they’re able to relax for the time being. Their arms eventually loosen around each other and Taemin can finally tuck Minho’s fringe away from his eyes, his hair hasn’t ever been this long before but Taemin absolutely loves it. 

 

Minho, in turn, grins at Taemin with the most unbridled fondness that it makes Taemin nearly melt.

 

Almost in a daze, Taemin doesn’t realize his phone is vibrating until it falls from the couch to the floor. Taemin really doesn’t want to go and pick it up, afraid that he’ll break what ever is happening right now. But nonetheless he gets up, swinging his legs over the cushions and standing up lazily. The texts are from Kibum and a few from Jinki, they have a lot of question marks in them and Taemin realizes what he was supposed to be doing.

 

“Hey, we’re getting together to celebrate the end of the semester, you up for it?” Taemin asks Minho, he stays looking at his phone, afraid that he’ll blush uncontrollably if he meets Minho’s eyes again.

 

“Yeah sure,” Minho says, fidgeting a bit next to Taemin, he can feel Minho hesitate a bit and honestly the past few minutes seem almost dreamlike, like they weren’t even real. But then Minho speaks up again, his voice gentle yet determined, “Wait, wait. You like me right? I’m not like, misreading any of this—”

 

“Yes, yes, for like ever,” Taemin responds, sending Kibum a confirmation alongside an apology. His words were rushed and a bit jumbled, but they felt like a soft exhale, like his body was finally relaxing.

 

“Oh my god okay. Cool. Cool,” Minho says then all relieved and less wound up. And it’s like the air around them was breathable again.

 

“Yeah so um, you ready to go though? I kinda told Kibum we were on our way.” Taemin says, his heart feeling lighter. He felt so giggly and it was a little embarrassing and very very sappy, but that was okay because he knew Minho felt the same.

 

They left their apartment with their hands clasped together, warm and soft. Winter was melting away, leaving behind starry eyes while making room for reassuring smiles.

 

 

—

 

 

He ends up finishing the poem a month or so after the end of the winter semester.

 

Taemin wanted to say that the poem was . But he knew it wasn’t all that bad. He warned Jinki that at its best it was mediocre, but Jinki rolled his eyes at that.

 

Jinki’s always been much too sweet towards Taemin, but Taemin knew Jinki wouldn’t lie to him either.

 

However, the poem definitely had more faults than it’s good points. The ending was dragged out yet wrapped up in less than two lines and Taemin thinks that’s a big enough testament of how messy and badly paced the whole thing is. Anyone could tell exactly where he stopped writing and where he picked up steam, some verses shouldn’t be juxtaposed together at all, while others don’t seem to fit into the piece to begin with.

 

Either way, Taemin’s somewhat happy. He feels like his mental block with writing has lifted a bit, and he knows some parts of the poem aren’t that bad. It’s definitely not his best, but he’s trying to be less critical of himself, trying to not let fear stop him from doing what he loves.

 

The spring semester was going alright, they’re currently in the middle of it and they’re trying to get everything ready for graduation. Taemin picked up a part-time job working at a locally owned book making business, and he’s trying to figure out where to go from there. Minho’s still trying to apply to a few job openings, but he seems to be unhurried about the whole ordeal.

 

Taemin can tell Minho’s scared about graduation too, afraid of leaving the comfort of being a student and having to support themselves fully. But they’ve been doing okay so far, and as scary as the future seems to be, there’s still a few months left that they can enjoy.

 

Being with Minho is a bit surreal for Taemin, he still can’t wrap his head around the fact that Minho is his.

 

It’ll take a while for him to stop feeling so embarrassed by how cheesy he gets, but whatever, Minho thinks it’s cute.

 

So far they’ve just been reveling the new spring air, wandering around the city while holding hands, trying to grasp onto the present. The days are sunny and blue, and while spring still has the slight chill of winter, it holds all the new hopes of summer, and Taemin finds that is all he needs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

—

 

hey guys! im back w the longest oneshot ive written!! sorry its taken me nearly half a year to post this up ;A;

 

so there’s a bit of backstory with this one, i havent written anything in half a year, and once i decided to write something (this oneshot) it took me another half a year to finish it. all in all, ive hit a really bad block with writing, and it’s been really rough to put out good content

 

that being said, yes this oneshot is extremely personal, as taemin (as well as minho) were both written with my same frustrations.

 

i wanted to put a spin on the whole “write about how you cant write” and i hope this did? well?? 

 

how taemin feels about his poem is exactly how i feel about this oneshot, but as many faults as it has, i do feel like i can write now, i feel like im 100% over my writing block c:

 

anyway, remember how i said i wasnt gonna write anymore? i lied.

 

im trying to write a lot more now, since i miss it so much. and im also going to be taking requests!! so feel free to reach out on here or on my tumblr

 

anywayyyyy hope all you guys are having a lovely week♡♡♡